Chapter Text
(Thursday the 8th of March, 1972 continued. Somewhere, Someplace.)
Holding up a hand, Sonya glared at the metal mask wearing Mist of ancient and terrible origins. "No. You should have cleaned up something. You knew I would be here, that I raise other Mists, that this is not alright. Checkerface, you are going to give me a complex. Which my godson will have to suffer through to help me fix."
He did that weird Mist fidget thing, phasing in and out of reality where he stood instead of fiddle with his hands or fingers. If she could trust his expression or… anything, physically shown of him, actually more wary than annoyed or flatly indifferent.
"A pile. Just one. Pick it up, put it away, let me pretend. You do not have to throw anything out, just get it up off the damn fucking floor, jackass. Before I freak out on Shamal, you should not be making his life harder just because you cannot do this without me and his uncle."
"…or, I could just not bring you back here."
"Whatever!" The thief bit out viciously, pointedly keeping her attention on the Ancient Asshole only. "Whatever works for you, I do not give a fuck. If this is the way you wish to live, then have at. Just… every fucking time I think back to your utterly sad bachelor cave here, I start to fucking freak out about my already insane Mists."
That expression was a creeping annoyance, making Checkerface fussily straighten out his still very likely imaginary image presented in a show of pointed indifference. "I'll take your opinion under advisement. Now then…?"
She snatched the tarot cards he copied straight from Viper's Constructed storage-memory of who was drawn what, and how the hell that worked she had no fucking idea, from midair to study herself.
In a very crappy knockoff cave of wonders straight out of a fairytale, full of junkpiles instead of mounds of gold and jewels. It was very underwhelming, in reality.
Sonya prowled back to 'her' lounge chaise, the same fake brown leather affair he still hadn't returned to some poor bewildered therapist. Which was still right next to the decidedly not matching in anything but the stud quilting red leather version, which was real leather and had dangly gold tassels all around the bottom of the upholstery.
She didn't care, it wasn't really hers, fuck off you colossal asshole.
Settling in, she eyed the cards Viper had her 'draw' for herself. Instantly realizing the less decrepit old Mist of their 'Generation' hadn't asked what the missions were.
No, the fuck asked her deck to surmise them instead.
And fuck her deck was a cheeky thing.
The Queen of Pentacles, inverted. The eight of wands, inverted. The knight of swords, upright.
Upside down queen?
Her deck was basically calling her a slut. A 'do not get addicted to whatever pleasure has you in its sway' warning. Basically trying to tell her there were better ways to manage her life and she seriously needed to sit down and think about it.
Eight upside down sticks was 'denial does not serve here'. There was a powerful chain of consequences going on and pretending ignorance would fuck if not her over than someone else.
The fuck-ass knight?
Even if she was doing the right thing, it was for the wrong reasons. A person that blames another for their own irritation and restlessness, a hot-head with a chip on their shoulder doing everything but handling their own shit. Question your motives and think about what you are doing, you arrogant combative bitch.
…or, maybe, yet again 'you slut'.
Sonya discarded the mere copy of the cards she drew to the floor, not needing Viper's lingering 'this is what this card means drawn like this, you moron' help embedded in each to know what her own drawing said here. "…this is a thing."
"Surprise." Checkerface countered, remaining where he put himself to bring them here instead of follow her to the entirely ornate armchair he got himself to go with hers. "I'm sure neither you nor I care for the mechanics of how it's possible. It is, you can, and I require your assistance to… adjust what I was never taught to tinker with. Maybe… I will not need quite so long. Or to use a child to solve a flaw in our supposedly temporary fix of a problem we should have solved ourselves eons ago."
"…with what others? You said you were the last."
"I am."
She buried her face in both hands, roughly rubbing both eyes first. "One, that is fucking depressing and also very fucking sad. Two, how the fuck do you plan on doing that?"
"If it takes earning your pity, I'll do that." Snarled the Mist heatedly, hitches of something darkly hateful and wretched underpinning his suddenly more emotional tone. "You want-"
"We owe you."
"…uh… what?"
"Me and Skull." Sonya reported flatly, still keeping her face in her hands and just not looking because then she might actually cry or some other stupid shit. This whole bullshit situation was getting complicated and stupid and she just knew it wasn't going to end prettily… but there wasn't anything else to be done. "You gave me the 'Mists can physically leave non-physical issues behind to deal with later' tip, I gave it to the brat. Shamal used it, to help him mange my fucking ass when I basically freaked out and tried to murder people I should not while Skull stopped me. So we owe you. If this is what you want, Checkerface, you do not have to do shit but ask."
He was silent for a while, not just a couple seconds or even just one minute. "…he picked it back up, right?"
"Right."
Very suddenly now in that stupid armchair, the Ancient Asshole made a few hesitantly inquiring noises that were almost a word or three but he seemed to keep changing his mind on which he wanted to get out first. "…this is… unusual. Do I have to pick? Can I add something on top? Is it not needed?"
"Maybe, knock off the 'kid in a candy store glee' first." With a sigh, she straightened up to lean against the 'head' of her lounger and scowled at the asshole. "What the fuck did you do to my head, anyway? Reborn's right, I let a mind reader into it. Then I talked to him about you and your stupidity. He should have picked up on what I am allowed to remember about this shit."
"His manifestation of telepathy is a bit… broken. Half-formed. He should be able to do so by choice, not unable to stop it at all." Checkerface lurked in his armchair like an evil overlord, fingertips pressed together and steepled in front of his mouth as he watched her back. "And you, are one of a handful of true diviners left in existence. I shouldn't have to tell you not to allow that to spread very far."
"Helen of Troy is enough of a forewarning." Sonya deadpanned with spite. "No, my stance will be 'it is chance and very stupid' to keep idiotic morons that want to know the future off my fucking doorstep. Otherwise I have a very nice hammer Renato gave me entirely too long ago that has not seen any use yet…"
Even if that fed directly into one of the warnings her cards were trying to give her. 'Pretending ignorance will not serve here', so she had to not do ignorance but… flat denial wasn't the only method available to her.
"Good." Deemed the Ancient Asshole with a fussy judgmental sniff in her face. "You are free to remember all you like about your past life, anything I find and chart out in your memories about this 'timeline' will be automatically sealed off from him and you. It will not leave your pretty little head… since you already know more than I feel comfortable with. It is not your fault, or his fault, but as I have a need… it is on me to keep it secured for us."
"For the rest of my life?"
"If need be, yes. I am forcing you to remember," Checkerface answered immediately and without a drop of mercy, "so I will be the one responsible. I'll try my best not to ruin your life."
She rubbed at the side of her face, mostly her temple, and heaved a sigh of bitter resignation. "What did you mean 'add something on top'?"
(ooo000ooo)
(Thursday the 8th of March, 1972 continued. The Arcobaleno Manse, far outside of Farindola, Province of Pescara, Abruzzo, Italian Republic.)
Even knowing the alternative readings and what they could have gotten, Luce still got a chill reading the layout of advice for herself from past to future. From a soothsayer less 'only what you could ever know' and more 'drawn straight from Fate' than her whole line's gift.
The Ten of Cups, upside down. The collective goodwill is damaged and fraying, you have said and done things you will regret later.
The World card, one of two cards in a tarot deck where orientation did not matter. Keep moving, know yourself, you do not have to die for it.
Page of Pentacles, learn. Study the underlying mechanism, those around you, build off it. You may be green now, you will be a master in time if you study your lessons properly.
For both herself and Lal Mirch, they were decidedly blunt terms called out for them both. Accurately blunt, even with a split in who they addressed.
Luce had to recently gut her own Famiglia, Lal Mirch got axed by her own branch of the military. She was currently lying her damn ass off in the here and now, the other woman had lied to the other Rain now here with them and said branch of the military that gave her uncalled for booting. Their 'past' card draw was very clear there.
There was nothing else to be done but keep on course, for both her and the Rain Arcobaleno. Their present.
For the future… well.
The Sky was still stuck on the 'you do not have to die' foretelling, than greatly concerned with that 'you do not know enough yet' foretelling.
Did Sonya's deck mean if she studied her own gift more she may not die, or if she learned more of those around her she may not die?
She had been recently very firmly slapped across the face that she only knew events, not the timeline. While the events that made up the timeline were important, she had literally no control on which of many might come to be. She could try to influence them, and did indeed do so one variation of time, but being able to do that had passed from probability months ago.
They were on an uncharted, unknown possibility of reality. Terrifying, yes.
Luce… may not have to die?
She knew, now, that if she did not know to look then she would not foresee. Her ancestors had known this and pointedly structured the 'duties' of the Don or Donna to help them focus on what the Famiglia needed to stay information brokers and not outed as 'seers'. Arrogantly, she had not thought she needed the same for her more personal use of her foresight.
The human mind could not store that much memory, a lifetime's worth yes… not millions of lifetimes. That was why they were gifted with foresight, not all knowing. A Giglio Nero seer had to look.
She had a wealth of more options than what she could immediately see from some months, and years, ago. The future was an ever-changing set of possible probabilities, reliant on not just what she would remember in the future but on the choices of several million other humans as they worked and lived. Uncaring, perhaps more heedless, of what loomed ahead of them.
As the Donna of the Giglio Nero had 'looked' for what she could manipulate to end up in a very specific end-point, starting there and tracing backwards, she had flatly ignored what she had not manipulated. Thinking it couldn't help her much. Who knew how many different possibilities to solve this had winked in and out of existence while she had been ignoring them?
Maybe it was the great, almost overwhelming total probability of her death in her late twenties that blinded her. She knew there were fates in the future where she would not die midway through her baby's childhood, but all she had known to look into was done because Luce had been selfish.
Viper would need a half-formed Harmony bond to Luce, to avoid Tyr on Costa's death and become free for Xanxus to snag in the future. Fon did not need one and would just resent it later for the rest of his life. Verde did not care beyond a bitter thought once or twice regardless of her choice here.
Skull and Sonya needed to agree on one before that became a complication, and Reborn would only go when he picked to go to his Sky. If Lal Mirch and Colonello did bond in time, they would not need Luce to help them avoid Iemitsu Sawada's grip.
She was just going to focus on that for now. Take a step backwards, focus on her baby and study her own foresight and how it worked. There was… literally nothing else to do but keep moving.
It was no longer reliant on just what Luce chose to do, the possibility of guiding the future was out of her hands and firmly in Uncle Kawahira's.
And her ancient, part of another race, uncle had decided he really didn't want to wait until long after her death to fix this problem.
Luce firmly stacked Sonya's cards into a neat pile and handed them with the folder on their information gathering 'mission' to Lal, her ears picking up the faint sound of a well-maintained car coming to a stop on grass outside. "…I believe I wish to spend the rest of the week with my daughter. If no one minds."
"Not a damn." Dismissed the female Rain, getting rapid nods from her male fellow in echo.
Fon and Verde flatly ignored her, Viper just checked Luce had given the tarot cards to someone else first, and Reborn remained silent but did tip her a nod.
"Skull, if you would give my office a ring and let me know your sister did return in good health when she does?"
"…uh, sure?"
"No, not just because I need her assistance to wean Aria off drawing Cloud Flames to comfort herself. I would like to know ahead of time how much of a bitch I should be to Checkerface next, if I can manage it."
The stuntman barked a laugh, leaning back on both hands as he sat on the floor instead of remain hunched forward to keep eye contact with young Vasilyev 'Vasya' Ravil Olegovich. "You did pretty damn good this round, Luce. Think I'm looking forward to what else you can get in with a bit of planning."
The Sky dipped him a short bob with a smirk. "About my only use right now. I did give Lal tips while we were hunting down that information we were 'tasked' with, so I also need Sonya's 'back' permission if and when, and if she feels like, giving it."
"I'll let her know."
Luce turned back to Lal. "Not to cut you off from choosing to admit that, but just… I'd like to keep things neat, if I may."
"Sonya already explained 'interference' in a Tutorship is basically a death sentence, no I'm not surprised you're covering your own ass here, Luce." Dismissed the Rain pointedly while paging through their card draw again, with a half sneer of distaste for being unable to argue the 'interpretation' Viper had tagged each with. "I knew you'd probably get that in before I could."
"As long as that is clear," she allowed for very dryly, "then I bid you all ciao here. You lot are wild, sometimes very well mannered, but to be blunt… I prefer my daughter's company over everyone here still."
Barely, and only because it was very comforting to be allowed into the guard of this group without expectations or demands. Reborn was not her Sun, Fon not her Storm, Skull and Sonya not her Clouds, Viper not her Mist, Verde not her Lightning, and Lal Mirch and Colonello not her Rains. They might be curious, or not for several of them, but they were equally not interested in smothering Luce to see if she might be their Sky.
Which was, to be bluntly honest here, very fucking rare with Flame users. Unattached Flame users.
"I think I speak for all of us when I say 'I believe we also would prefer you spend your time with your daughter than linger around here'." Reborn drawled smoothly in the background, still tipping her another nod on her way to the door around the dog-dug hole in floorboard made when Alek had to check to see if he could dig up his missing mistress. "Ciao, Luce. Until next time."
Luce saw Aria before she could hear her once she got out of the manse's front door, which meant the dose of murderous calmness Sonya donated had not yet worn off. Which had been a chance, yes.
Which also meant she got to take a nice long nap this afternoon with her daughter, and not need to stress out if the Storm-Cloud Donna would help her or not. Even 'knowing' the chance of it in the future, the thief was still a difficult woman to predict.
(Friday the 9th of March, 1972. De Mort Castle, Moneglia, Province of Genoa, Liguria, Italian Republic.)
"You'll have to excuse the kid."
"Of course, Donna de Mort." Fon glanced up for a moment, mainly just to see that yes. This Italian man had brought a young woman with him to justify his excuse, who was significantly more nervous of the full-grown Cloud woman than the child one here for healing.
Then he returned his attention to the talismans in his hands. Tarot cards.
As it was not a foretelling he was uncertain how much he wished to believe what this claimed. As a description, on the other hand… it was almost a bit bewilderingly frank. To an uncomfortable degree.
Annoyingly clever of Viper, to claim a foretelling and then let them find out it was actually an estimation of them. Fon did not believe the future could be foretold, as the future was a thing crafted by many hands, and he had prepared himself to argue such upon the 'reveal'.
Sonya's art was advice from fate, not 'telling' the future. The Storm was not fully alright with being given such, his life was his to succeed or fail at himself on his own merits.
As the woman herself claimed upon being 'returned' yesterday, moody and displeased and very snappish, the practice of fortune telling was inherently flawed. Her talent was advice, which might be uncannily accurate to an odd degree but likely only useful in hindsight.
She would not be living her life by her own cards, if others wished to do so they may as long as she was left out of it. It might have frustrated Viper, but Fon and unsurprisingly Verde were seemingly both satisfied with her principled stance on the revealed topic.
It may be an odd skill she had, but the thief would live her life as she saw fit. Not by what 'fate' or others may want.
Fon pointedly folded his three cards into a sleeve before Reborn could peer over his shoulder and see them for himself. "Can I assist you?"
"Pay attention." Drawled the strange man, leaning back against the same wall he had chosen to seat himself against with a lazily watchful air. "It's polite."
"My apologies. I do not care." Announced the assassin tonelessly, much to Sonya's continuing indifference and a strange look from the Sky here seeking a strange arrangement. "It is her choice to assist or not, or even if she believes this claim. I am not required here, nor is my opinion relevant."
"And to be truthful, I kind of don't care much either." Tacked on the strangely skilled thief very dryly, refocusing on her knitting needles as she made more of the material started some time ago given the length of it. "It is weird, Cavallone."
"Trust me, at any other time I'd just tell my father no and deal with the year or two of arguments he'll pitch." Leone Cavallone admitted in a quiet tone, pulling the lady he brought with him down to be seated with him on the couch of the ground floor sitting room they had met within. "The issue is I would rather not be what kills him. He's dying, Donna de Mort."
"This is still a lie, and I am not particularly inclined to assist that."
"If he was healthy and in his right mind, this would not be a situation at all." The claim finally got her to stop knitting, and she dropped her current project to her lap to eye him dubiously. "He had a stroke, it's… killed his emotional control. Nothing else, but what he says now is getting a bit… not good. We're pulling him back from being Don in everything but name because of it, but he's still my father and the head of the family. So yes, I'm asking you to lie."
"I regret to inform you," Reborn injected stridently, sounding nothing as he claimed, "that victims of strokes can live well beyond twenty or so more years perfectly fine. He may be dying, Cavallone, but we all are dying by increments from old age."
"Not according to the family doctor. He's got, at best, a year or so more. Likely less, given his habits. Which dad is flatly refusing to believe, or modify his lifestyle to account for."
"Just get hitched, present him with the paperwork, and say 'so sorry, can't'." Sonya offered next, eyeing the other woman quietly sitting in on this curiously.
"Again, rather not be what kills dad. And knowing my luck, that will be what kills him." Leone held up his entwined hand, still folded with the presumed girlfriend's, as if to beg for another moment of tolerance. "This close to inheriting the Famiglia, anything and everything that looks like disobedience or trying to grab power I'm not yet 'due' will be used against me almost immediately when I take over. He's a difficult, hardline kind of man who suddenly went unreasonably more hardline. Yes. I'm still his son, I'd rather not bitterly argue with him the last few months of his life. Or get disowned, which would make providing for any family a bit more than just hard unless I move somewhere… less defensible for a Sky. Just for a few months, Donna de Mort. Maybe a year."
"What the hell do I get out of letting you use me like this?"
"Nothing I can guarantee right now, but a formal alliance when I am the head of the Cavallone Famiglia."
"I have a stake in Mafia School." Offered the so far silent woman quietly. "I'm willing to sign it over now, this second."
Sonya returned her attention to her fellow blonde woman pointedly.
"It's stolen, yes. I did not think you would mind."
"Also a thief, here."
The so far unintroduced woman nodded simply. "I'd rather not say why or how I got it, there's nothing to gain from it but some influence at the school. Which, I believe, as you recently acquired a Mafia School Professor renders it quite… flimsy in comparison. Sorry…"
"Are you… entirely alright with this?"
"It was my idea to ask you to do this." She countered with slight amusement. "If there's anyone in existence that will not want to steal Leone from me, it's you Donna de Mort. You have significantly better prospects in this very room. I'm not one of his Guardians, which would've made this a matter of routine instead of… at risk. We just need, at most, a year of your indulgence. Please."
"If you two elope. Right this fucking second." Sonya demanded in sheer, utter exasperation. "Bring me the marriage certificate, you don't have to say shit all to anyone, just redo your vows or something later. Then you can do… this. But yes, you are signing that over. Since it's going on offer."
"I told you it'd work!" Grabbing the Sky to kiss right then and there in front of all of them, the woman hastily bolted off through the open doorway. "Be right back!"
"…she left the paperwork in the car." Leone sheepishly offered after a bewildered second, righting himself slowly. "Um… sorry. About… all of this. Really."
"This is stupid."
"Yes."
The thief picked up her knitting needles with a scowl, which made young Vasilyev hurriedly unwind more of the silk he was minding to give her more material. "Reborn's going with you to witness and will bring the certificate back for 'appearances'. Have fucking fun."
"Need me to scrape off any of your Guardians beforehand?" Inquired the named Mafioso with a disturbingly intent grin that earned him a wary glance from the other Mafioso.
"No. Dad's tried for years to give me political Guardians, I generally flatly ignore him when he tries. All my Guardians are mine, thank you." Turning back to the woman he was seeking an accord with, the man tried for an awkward smile. "Speaking of things on offer… would you like my firstborn as well?"
"…what the fuck is with people giving me their kids?"
"Well, if you would be less good at it…" The hitman pointedly looked at the young Cloud at her side, then flicked a wrist at presumably the rest of the children in the castle behind him. "…then maybe people would stop trying to ensure you will raise them if the worst happens to them."
Sonya paused with her needles to pin him with a flat look, and Vasilyev freed one hand to stick his middle finger up at the Sun using Mafioso.
"My point." Mocked the man wickedly, turning as he touched the brim of his floppy hat on his way out of the room as well.
"I have… literally nothing else to promise you right now. Nothing that equates to how much I appreciate this, Donna de Mort." Answered Cavallone, belatedly and with a little shame to his posture and tone. "Alcina's the only one able to offer shit all tangible, aside promises for the future."
"Oh you're signing shit I can use to blackmail you both if this isn't as claimed. It'll be burned the day of your father's funeral, and we'll all never speak of this again. So think of a third party to hold your end of the contract." Flatly declared the thief as she returned to knitting. "If it wasn't out of respect to a compromised old man's last few months of life, Cavallone, I wouldn't fucking bother. Now get out."
The man went as bid. Not even returning with 'Alcina' to sign over an ornate document, before the woman also darted off to do as asked and marry immediately.
"Vasilyev, you don't have to stick near me this closely."
She got silently stared at by her current young shadow.
"I'm going back to work this week too. Either you come with me or stick around here. You have a choice, yes. But you can't keep using me like this. You have to adjust sometime."
The child set aside her current skein of undyed silk, getting up and immediately walking off.
"…where is he going?"
"Apparently, to pack. Dumbass." Sonya answered with mild irritation.
Fon rose to his full height, replacing the Cloud child as the one managing her materials while crafting. "Can I… inquire, as to why you are humoring him?"
"He was outside my reach, Fon. We all, both him and I and my old man, knew it would not be ending pretty. I offered, the last moment I could, that he could come here if he wanted." She allowed bitterly, staring at the work she had gotten through and unraveling it all with a single heavy sigh. "Can I ask what you really want today, or are we not addressing that."
First, he rewound her skein. Then set that aside and drew out the tarot cards from his sleeve to hand over.
Sonya eyed him questioningly. "Seriously?"
"I do not… believe in fortune telling. No. This is… more curious than that. I'd rather you define this than have Viper do so."
Slowly, she put down her needles again in favor of the cards. "Same order you got them in?"
"Yes."
"Three of Cups and the Five of Swords were…?"
"Upside down."
"Inverted." She corrected absently. "Well. You were a frustrating asshole, I'm sure your old man will agree there. You might be becoming less of a competitive asshole, not sure I buy that. And…"
"I do not understand why I 'got' the Page of Cups." Fon clarified ruefully with an absent shrug, as those first two were the ones he could not muster an argument against. "Viper has asked us to argue so, I do not believe I am a 'flighty imaginative and creative individual'."
"…this also means 'easily tossed around by external forces and events', Fon."
"Aa…"
Sonya returned her attention to his cards thoughtfully, studying the images depicted before handing them back with an absent shrug. "You are creative, though. Sorry to break your illusions here. It might be physically creative, and you fine-tune your art to an excessive degree. Martial arts are still an art. And you are passionate about practicing and using your art."
"Unfortunate." He scowled at the flimsy cardstocks with the brightly colored decorations, letting them go up in his Flames with irritation. Even if they were not his belongings to destroy, she did not seem to care at the destruction.
"If it makes you feel any better, the cards Viper had me draw called me a slut. I'm fairly sure twice."
"…no, that does not make me feel any better." Tugging away her current craft project to safely store on the low table in this room, the Storm swept her into his lap to firmly ensconced in his arms. "You are no slut."
"I might be doing this wrong. Or backwards. It's a high possibility. You can just ask, you know. I don't particularly like being moved by someone else." Sonya bent her spine backwards over his bicep this time instead of pressing upon them, which his shoulders did appreciate. "Fon, I have literally no idea what the hell I'm doing. With you and Reborn. Now it's not just a 'yes or no' question, someone's going to be disappointed. I can't… fix that. And I'm greedy enough to know full well what the disappointment will break, yet not willing to call it immediately without the full picture just in case I can tell early who I will fit best with."
"I've known you longer."
"And following that playground logic, he asked first."
"Why do you like him at all?"
"An unfortunate flaw in my character. I like assholes." She sighed, slinking back into his chest to settle in a loose hug. "He, and you, were never afraid of me. Or wary, or… I don't scare either of you. I appreciate this. A lot. I don't get that very often. Almost as immediately, both of you opposed me. You physically and him verbally, but I wasn't given my way just because I'm a violent bitch. Which is also kind of rare, and something I don't want to lose."
"That was not a particularly wise choice to join in on, to meet you." Fon allowed for with a single simple shrug, but as it was something he did regardless even knowing the rules of what could be allowed and what couldn't… it was and he had no other words to offer about it.
"Because it pissed me off, might've cost you something, or what?"
"Well, you were a traveling Flame user. We suspected we would not be the first to try confronting and keeping you. And that it may indeed fail, even if we knew the area better than you could."
It may have worked out for the best this way, but he would admit to some mild disappointment they had not been able to catch her. It may never have been possible with a thief of her skills, and once he learned she was indeed a Cloud too highly ill-advised to try caging her, but he was flawed enough to wish he had more time to learn her tells.
Sonya huffed in sarcastic tinged amusement into his chest. "You know, mom and the old man's going to be here at any minute? Lisa wanted to see us before they had to leave, and after the whole shitshow of a 'mission' we got delayed on…?"
"You have a doorkeeper." He countered, unwilling to let her slide out of his hold just yet. "I will have a warning."
"…to let me go, or try to hide from mom?"
"Both." Fon answered with wry amusement that made her snicker.
(ooo000ooo)
(Friday the 9th of March, 1972 continued. De Mort Castle, Moneglia, Province of Genoa, Liguria, Italian Republic.)
"…so-"
"Thought you wanted to 'never' talk about it again." Reborn mocked to Skull's face, still getting only a mild look of aggravation for the disrespect no other man in his position would ever put up with.
Folding up the marriage certificate of one Leone Cavallone to his lady love Alcina Cavallone nee Puccia, to stick in a binder of documentations containing motorcycle deeds and several other papers the stuntman apparently found useful doing what he did, he pointedly tried again. "…so."
"I make no promises not to shoot you."
"Does she know what you're lying about?"
He thought about lying, because that really wasn't any of Skull's business. "Does she know what you're 'over-dramatizing' about?"
"Yes." Confirmed the stuntman in full getup without hesitation or shame, shrugging after a moment. "She helped."
Ditto, to be honest. Because Reborn was not an honest man, he glowered at Sonya's brother in irritation. "I told her immediately and when it became possibly contentious. Men do not spring from nothing fully grown, Skull. At the very least, I am not going to marry under an assumed name."
"Dude, don't care." Dismissed Skull heatedly and with more irritation than having attitude from an unaffiliated from his famiglia man thrown into his face. "Just… yeah, okay. I appreciate knowing I don't have to tell her myself. Just stay like that and we're not going to have problems. Okay? Okay, bye. See you… whenever the fuck I have to next."
Taking that as the dismissal it obviously was, Reborn left the man's high perch tower room first.
It might take him twenty or some years, but he had the faith he'd eventually get Sonya to marry him. Their whole lives and maybe three kids later, but eventually.
Or, given his luck with her, next weekend and because she took an idle comment the entirely right way that he didn't intend.
One never really knew with that woman.
Just look at her little revealed talent with tarot cards.
Reborn was going to get a pound of flesh out of Viper somehow, even if it killed him. That had been a bit too close to the single bone of truth in all the lies for his taste. Especially when taking Skull with him as a wildly different man than himself, for a supposedly difficult 'reading'.
'Their' past, represented in ten swords, points to the sky. In other words, you liar. 'Reframe' to start 'fresh' and it would not be as bad, you have begun to believe your own stories and excuses.
As blunt as the thief that drew them the cards.
Thankfully the other two were quite so alarming in content, just that sticky first one that let both him and Skull be clearly aware the other had been telling fibs.
To be clear, Reborn was not remotely shocked to hear the Cloud was lying about something. He was an adult, part of the Mafia, pretty par for the course. Worse yet, a showman and the underboss all at the same time. Skull made some very pretty and neat lies when he needed them, with the talent to blend them into what was or to back up his lies in some other way to make them damn near invisible.
Cherep Bazanov had not been so willing to lie and conform to Mafia sensibilities only a few years ago, the hitman knew full well where and when this lie of his had been done. Not something Reborn should know or be able to judge by, and as his Donna and sister knew full well to the point she assisted him in it… not his problem either.
Either they'll get away with it because they were skilled in setting up a believable lie hard to sort out from the truth, or the hitman would be told when he 'earned' the faith to not spoil it. Preferably the second, sometime soon. He'd rather not piss Sonya off sticking his nose somewhere neither Cloud would appreciate just because he was highly curious.
The 'Ace of Cups' drawn for them both was significantly less objectionable, if a bit… indulgent. Apparently, according to the thief's cards, both he and Skull just need to relax right now.
Not particularly something Reborn wished to do. Sonya made some very powerful enemies on Vongola's behalf, on Fon's Triad's behalf, who very likely needed regular discouragement from attempting to inconvenience the woman who rescued a little lady Sky in distress from their stupidity. Then there was her undeath, and all the idiots that might think surprise or poison or may if you stabbed enough times might work.
…well, actually. Taking a week to go get that in hand would be rather relaxing, for him.
So yes. Reborn was in desperate need of some leisurely relaxation more suited to his taste than wasting time at a tropical beach filled with twittering civilian fucks. How thoughtful of 'fate' to suggest it.
The last less immediate and more 'advice for the future' card had been… not particularly hopeful. The page of swords, again 'reversed' to hold the sword pointed up.
'Don't take a stand against another until the resentment has been cleared, you'll undermine the truth of your message'. Or, to put it succinctly, you're being overly critical of another's shortcomings.
Well, excuse him he didn't appreciate Fon attempting to steal Sonya from under him.
The woman warned him she wasn't going to wait on the hitman to get his shit together, and the airheaded assassin got in five minutes past the deadline with an 'um, actually' upset. Which left the thief very neatly pinched, caught between her promise to let Reborn sooth her heartache to bring her back to him and Fon's sudden out of the blue bullshit in need of sorting out.
An old friend of hers she was not willing to flatly shut out, not in the favor of the man who once had something with her but strangled it to nothing when he abandoned her.
Which left a tiny bit more in question than he really fucking appreciated right now.
…plus another kid. This one wasn't Reborn's responsibility dumped on her, at least. The 'Wolfpack' Cloud was very obviously short cutting his traumatized to hell situation by that almost automatic intense dislike two Hard Flame Clouds held for the other 'interloper'.
If Vasilyev couldn't muster up the energy or willpower to care on his own, he could trigger himself to hate using the thief's presence. Forced himself to focus on the here and now, not on whatever the fuck happened.
Smart of the brat, kept him moving for now until he could focus on something else. Hence, the hitman had no desire to get in the child's way until he could do without using her. He was trying to fix himself the best he could with what was at hand, he had a couple weeks of leeway to get himself there.
Maybe a month or two, because fuck. Something that could unanchor a Cloud from their home territory?
Reborn wasn't even curious. Skull and Sonya didn't even ask before immediately making room for him to occupy.
Apparently while Pahkan Arseniy worked to a more limited degree, Vasilyev wasn't willing to hang around Moscow for the similar if not as intense help. Probably because baby Cloud brat, Valera, wouldn't immediately try to adjust for him due to outside details the even younger kid likely didn't care about.
There might be a question of if Dorokhov could substitute, the Khimki Cloud. A moot one, as most Russians not needed to hang around had already fucked off back home to their own territories and responsibilities. Including vor Ziven, the first Moscow Home Tutor, and his Hard Cloud Flame Tutee.
A handful were left behind with the Russian equivalent to a Don, and Arseniy was pointedly sitting on the dumbass Sun vor that caused half the shit Reborn felt incredibly galling. Pointedly as in sitting at a hotel outside the 'Varia' territory the de Morts held for Tyr, staring at Gedeon in public and far away from anything his children saw as home.
Even though his woman and biological son were here, delightedly fussing with Cesare over the tolerantly putting up with it Donna until Skull got his ass down here as the one intending on leaving first.
"Can I give him a hint, at least?"
Tatiana leaned over to knock shoulders with her sister, sharing a secretively amused look with the younger woman to their elder's clear amusement. "Where's the fun in that, Nya?"
Valera was utterly disgusted with the both of them, forcefully removing himself from his sisters' grasp to go back to his mother. Sulking hard and tiny, pudgy, baby fat fingers still clenched around that same lock he had been toting around since Reborn caught sight of the child at Mafia School.
Lando slotted him a look, half-suspicious and entirely noncommittal as he stayed within the Mafia Land nurse's sight to keep his Voodooed leg under a medical professional's eye. The hitman merely tipped him a nod of acknowledgement, fetching himself up against the open doorway to the ground floor parlor Sonya liked to use for decently well thought of guests. "Raincheck or dinner, Sonya?"
"Dinner." Decided the thief for herself, weirdly and suddenly without her knitting project anywhere in the room she had been fussing with every odd minute she had to work on it. "I'd prefer just to do a later lunch here… but my Lackey said he finally had contracts for me to look at. I'll only be a few hours behind you."
He would also prefer Cesare's cooking if he could, but dinner with a lovely lady was a close second best. "Fon is…?"
That question got him a glance, equally noncommittal before she sighed heavily. "The old man's dojo, obviously. The battle happy dork. Yaozu uses him as a teaching aid occasionally when he's nearby, that was the plan as far as I know. Again, whatever you do Reborn, I'd prefer it if my friend doesn't have to set half the commune on fire to rid himself of you."
In any other situation Reborn might be annoyed, he was not such a brute to damage what Sonya found important enough to protect. Especially not when she decided it because his godson needed an Italian based home for her to raise him in.
…except, Lando was standing on both feet again. Leaning up against an interior wall, and with his formerly missing leg in a brace to help him walk on his own again, but whole. The little dragon lady took what Renato could never heal and replaced it with her outright fucking undeath learned from her older brother, which her sister made real flesh again.
If the ladies responsible wanted him to dance naked through the streets he'd do so happily, only asking if he could at least keep his damn hat at least.
"We… merely have a bit of business pending, Sonya. I do not intend to give you a bigger headache."
"Neatly covers your ass up to and including 'accident' there." She shot back very dryly, with an almost unwilling smirk. "Ensure your very professional and obviously gentlemanly 'business' doesn't bother my fucking people either, Reborn."
"Wouldn't dream of it." He lied through his damn teeth, but politely to the needs of the people and their various importance she had with her, as he turned to leave. "Ciao."
Until Reborn resented Fon's whole existence a bit less, it'd probably be for the best if he stuck with asking what Triad enforcers the assassin knew needed to be watched. The man was more than right to be so wary and objective to the Mafioso's mere presence around this particular thief he was good friends with.
The hitman had already broken her heart once, after all.
(Sunday the 12th of March, 1972. Verde's Materials Laboratory, Moneglia, Province of Genoa, Liguria, Italian Republic.)
"Mou, I expected you to be the hardest to convince."
"I only learned of my own ability to reject physical harm by burning willpower in my mid-twenties. I am used to the impossible being, in fact, somehow possible." Verde snapped in ill-humor at them, not turning around from the bundle of cloth and small glass spikes he was fiddling with. "Convinced, no. However, if what you claim is truth, the data will bear out your hypothesis. There is too little data, yet all of it substantiates your position to date. Therefore, plausible until further investigations are completed."
The amount of value in this single underground room… bolts of Flame-resistant silk awaiting testing, the crucible they utilized to create Flame focus gems to a manufactured specification and quality, the wall of information on the chemical makeup of those stones…
Viper would be getting an invitation to take from this laboratory. If it took the entirety of the rest of their lives, they would be getting something on the Lightning Arcobaleno to earn the right.
Unfortunately this situation was not it.
It had almost been perfect. Until everyone decidedly didn't react as expected of them.
Unique, but annoying.
"The use, on the other hand…" Deeming himself missing something from his current project, the man sharply rose from the wheeled stool to cross the underground vault in a few short strides of long legs. "The use I find dubious at best. I will be no party to abusing the quirk that left her with the strange ability."
"Makes you smarter than most." Viper sniffed in offense and audible distaste that was only half faked as they remained in a clear corner near the still burning glass crucible cooking another batch of those so valuable manufactured gems. "No. I am not here to see what I can twist out of your little lady love about things I am not due. That information I will earn myself, mou. I require your assistance Verde, in figuring out the percentage of accuracy she has with tarot cards."
"As they are designed to be open to individual interpretation," coming to a flat halt right in front of the Constructed image of their drawing, the Lightning turned an unimpressed and entirely judgmental look on Viper for two whole seconds of sheer silence, "quaint. And ill-advised. It may not be termed a mistake, but there are less than desirable outcomes than others still possible."
Figured that in exchange for a lack of skepticism, he had been given an undue amount of caution in exchange.
Sonya had drawn for them both the Nine of Swords, the Knight of Cups inversed, and the Sun card.
Viper was tickled pink at such a clear, applicable reading of themself and the scientist.
They had all tried to make it as difficult as possible for the card reading, they all clearly and utterly failed. Until the last of them, the still highly skeptical Storm, could not continue believing a discrepancy after clarification by the clairvoyant that drew them the cards.
Sharply cutting as the blades depicted, the Nine of Swords was indicative of the price of pride. For both the Esper and a man smart enough to spend years as a student and never run out of subjects to study, they both had their pride in themselves damaged to some degree by their 'peers'. Academia was no gentle sphere of learning when students were pit against one another for a professor's limited attention, and neither were shadowy enclaves of gifted individuals able to do what others could not.
An inversed Knight of Cups was… equally as cutting, but drawn second more as a warning than a description. A 'take responsibility' demand from fate itself, to not become one that looks to blame others for mistakes or problems they made themselves as represented. If not, they both would only add to the situation instead of assist in handling it.
The point of contention here was, in actuality, the Sun card rather than either of the others. An assurance that there was not a possible wrong answer to be had.
No, Viper knew better than to spread the news of Sonya's gift further than their enforced little circle. They suspected the others clearly knew the same. From Skull's obvious discomfort with his and Reborn's reading, the fact the highly dubious Fon and surprisingly accepting hitman were both chasing the thief, Lal Mirch would keep Colonello's trap shut and not want to make her Tutor's life harder, and that left Luce and Verde as the only possible unknowns.
The Donna of Spies and Information Brokers would not be the leak here, not if her line was already committed to assisting the Ranking Prince's avoidance of undesirable elements after his talent. The entire Famiglia would know so much better than just anyone else what not to do when encountering pricelessly unique gifts like this.
If only to be allowed to make use of it when there was no other possible option left.
They had thought the Frenchman would immediately and pointedly discard any evidence of 'uncanny gifts' outright. Priding himself a scientist would mean that if it did not fit logical cause and effect, he could go outside their immediate group for more information to disprove the knack.
Pleasant to be proved wrong here, though the consequences of that were decidedly less so.
Tarot cards were not clear-cut things. Even more annoying, the woman able to use them so effectively even accounting for that was unimpressed with the ability she clearly showed. Pointedly reminding everyone that while yes it was an uncanny knack she might have, fate was a fickle and ever mutating thing.
Becoming reliant on fate instead of one's own ability and choices was a poor way to live one's life.
Usually it was not required to convince the one with the talent that they clearly had it, though it was also not uncommon to need to convince a novice that the ability was not in any way bad.
They had been apprenticed to the same master. One would think their fellow ex-apprentice of Crina's would know better than to deny her own skills.
Ah well. Viper was up to the task of instructing a fellow gifted better if they required it. It'd be annoying, clearly. Skull could be taught easily, Sonya was a decidedly less flexible Cloud if she felt stubborn. Being so tainted with Storm Flame, she often felt stubborn.
For this priceless talent, they'd be pleased to obtain Nightshade's grudging allowance to ask her cards a question on the rare occasion. Whatever she thought of the one asking or the foolishness inherent in having her draw advice from fate.
Two minutes of their silent presence had the Lightning Arcobaleno giving a raggedly irritated sigh. "I will listen to your proposal for tracking percentages in this… 'art'. I make no promises on doing so."
Likely, only to 'rid himself' of Viper's presence.
Such a pity for Verde, but the Esper had no wish to stressfully figure out how to track the accuracy in a form of fortunetelling reliant on individual interpretation. The man could clearly do so, it fit the responsibilities he had taken upon himself, and would also keep things neatly contained.
Then revise it, several times, as more information was obtained to make it clearer what the cards were addressing if there was a poor question asked. A high possibility with this 'art'.
The Lightning glowered when Viper smacked down a leather journal with all known readings Sonya had provided them and their results down next to him at his workstation. Yet not disgruntled enough to prevent himself from immediately cracking it open to see what the Mist had written so far.
"Merely ask if you require me to… mou, adjust the space between entries for more information to be added."
"I have not agreed to this."
"It will be safer with you."
Verde shot them a heated, highly irritated look over one shoulder. Green eyes already lit with their Flame as voltages started to crackle against his skin and hair.
"Don't be stupid. If any catch a whisper of what she can do, mou… investigating me will be the next obvious step. Let us just… sidestep that possible annoyance here and now, hmm?"
Viper was powerful, that did not mean infallible. However, what they concluded as the most likely reactions was still of use here. Even if they had been pleasantly wrong.
Furthermore, giving it to Verde firmly put the information back in Sonya's influence. To guard and safekeep from nosey little future dead fucks prying for information they were not due.
It may be obvious that the scientist would keep track of, if only for the percentages they were honestly interested in… but from the outside looking in?
It would seem Viper would be the easier route to bribe information out of on this topic than the man that lived firmly inside her territory. Which was decidedly wrong, but not their problem if anyone was indeed that stupid.
The Frenchman curled a hand defensively over the leather journal and hunched his boney shoulders even more. "Be gone."
They did as bid.
(ooo000ooo)
(Sunday the 12th of March, 1972 continued. Talbot's Workshop, Italian Republic.)
The back of his house fell in this time, he suspected the Ancient Mist was doing this on purpose. "Can you stop breaking my house?"
Yes, it was a hovel. Compared to what everyone liked to build themselves these days, Talbot's attached single room next to his more modern and efficient workshop barely counted as a pigsty.
It was his damn pigsty, damn it all to hell. So what if people lived differently these days, this was how he lived and he damn well liked it.
"Time to wake up, Spade!" Kawahira, rudely, ignored him to sing cheerfully and with utter hatred. Slamming the dead Vongola Mist Guardian into the ground right over broken bricks.
Then doing it another seven or so more times, in rapid succession. Forcing the disembodied Mist to feel each and every one, because the Ancient One was still beyond angry and full of hate for the Dead One.
"You have two hundred and six… well. Allow me to correct that, now two hundred and five months to fix your mess!" One last slam into the ground, and completely grinding Talbot's former bricks into useless grit with the masonry, and Kawahira let Deamon Spade go.
Mostly go.
…partially go.
Talbot heaved a heavy sigh at the both of them, putting his hammer down and wiggling the chisel out of the tiara the Ninth Sky of Vongola requested him to make for his Lightning Guardian's foreign bride. Poor dear had little finery fit for her wedding being a working girl who earned her own damn finery, and the boy wished to at least ensure no one in Italy had an even slight bone to pick with what little materialistic things to pass along to her children she had while marrying into old blood.
The lady apparently replaced her to-be husband's eye, his dead eye. Damn fine work as it was, anyone not impressed with that was a damn blind fool.
Sweet couple, he really should meet them before the wedding.
"So. The number of bones in the human body?"
"I offered her all of it in one go, the woman very nearly knocked my head clean off in offense. With a surprise war hammer." Kawahira informed him brightly, while also brutally ripping Spade's remnant willpower clear in two before allowing the Dead Mist to recollect again. "We compromised just a touch. I give her a bone a month yet let her still hunt him down on her own, and she'll let me abuse her abilities. I have two hundred and five months to get this fixed and solved. Very gracious of her, yes?"
"Not sure if I should be thankful or annoyed she's dragging this out."
The old metalsmith wasn't particularly happy with Spade at all himself, but… they had known one another once upon a time. Old, old history. Not something he had with anyone else but Kawahira now.
And frankly, this was the most they've talked to one another in decades.
Well, if the Ancient One was offering to be a better and more frequent conversationalist?
Talbot wouldn't say no.
Equally as frankly, it was a better deal than keeping the murderous shade of Spade around.
…though he suspected that might be why the once-architect from another race was again targeting his hovel of a home with his excess. Kawahira had issues with shoddy constructions, and shoddy Constructions, and if the ancient other Mist would be around more then that might need to change.
Just so he didn't have to hear about it every time.
"Right. I take it Verde's back from whatever nonsense you've sent him on? I can visit the boy now, without being interrupted?"
"That's it?" 'Ripping' himself from the Ancient One's grasp, allowed to mind you, Spade forced himself as corporal as he could in this state.
To Talbot's 'vision', at least.
Less 'staggering' from the rough handling and being deprived of everything for a solid month or so, more… sans the bottom half of himself. The twisted, ragged remnants of what had once been an Italian noble born Mist Guardian focused all of himself squarely in Talbot's face.
"Before you even go there," the old metalsmith advised the Dead Mist tiredly, "I still keep in contact with Vongola, Spade. I know. I know what you've done, what you've did, and the cost of it all."
"Cost? To keep our Famiglia on top of that bloody pile of bone-"
"What did you do to Lucian Pello's parents, Spade?" Talbot interrupted with little care or pity to him, keeping the bridal tiara at the right temperature with a touch of his own Flames and the nearby burning forge. "Why, exactly, is the kid exactly square where Giotto was as a child? Why is that boy Timoteo's wife nursing a poor, now active Sky, child through that exact same trauma? A child that had been born outside the Mafia?"
Spade attempted to go check on his evil, got ripped back by Kawahira gleefully and thrown straight into Talbot's forge this time.
"I'll be back in a month, Kawahira. Do as you will, this once. Then never bother me about it again." It be annoying to learn a new layout for when he just didn't have the Flames to spare for sight, but sometimes… sometimes change was needed.
Not nice, not pleasant, but needed.
"I have thirteen different ideas for this shopfloor of yours, Talbot." Warned the Ancient One with all the pleasured glee a Mist could put in a single sentence.
"You have a month to figure it out, once I'm finished here." Talbot pointed his engraving hammer directly at Spade, more than enough of a threat to him now that had the Dead Mist hesitating half in and half out of the forge. "You… time has stopped for you, Spade. You can't grow, or change, or adapt. You've been 'keeping' Vongola the exact same over the centuries, which means it can't grow, or change, or adapt."
"It doesn't need to."
"Doesn't it? Had this been any other generation, that Lightning Guardian of Timoteo's would've had to be replaced. He knew it, we knew it, his Sky knew it. He was trying to make it work with half of his sight gone, it wasn't working. Along comes his lovely lady, she says 'no, I can fix that for you'. A foreign lady. Italy's being left behind, Spade. She fixed what we never could, in our time. That wasn't a need? Is it wrong that same man immediately snapped her up as a wife? To improve Vongola from where you've been keeping it? Were you going to kill her too?"
"With the help of a talented pair of Clouds." Kawahira interjected leadingly, even more hatefully pleased in a single second. Which meant Talbot was likely feeding into something the Ancient Other had going on right now. "Who taught the Cloud Guardian of Vongola to do it for them."
"Does that matter? She could." Logical arguments were never going to work on what was left of Deamon Spade, the old metalsmith had known this.
He still couldn't help but try.
"Were you going to kill Timoteo's sons, Spade? As you tried to kill his wife? To install a 'copy' of Giotto as the tenth head of Vongola?"
"Does refusing such baseless accusations here work at all, or have you already decided to judge me on half-complete information?"
Talbot studied the Dead Mist faking offense if not the pain skeptically, from the ragged edges of his Flames after Kawahira's abuse to the twisted spectrum of emotion he was capable of like this. "Is it even outside of what you consider 'acceptable' right now? I honestly don't know, Spade. When you figure it out, let me know. If you can in time. Your clock's finally ticking again."
Deamon shot Kawahira a heated look of such loathing, disappearing without his bones.
Poor echo of a lost moron, he wasn't going to be happy with the changes every Italian had basically ran themselves ragged to complete in time. About time, too. "A month, Kawahira."
The Ancient One took his hovel apart at the atomic level with spite. It just all collapsed into so much sandy grit in a single second.
Talbot heaved an aggravated noise of complaint, rubbing at his forehead with the hand still holding his engraving hammer. "After I'm done with this commission, please. I still needed to pack."
"Whoops." Kawahira dismissed pleasantly with a limp flick of his wrist. "You should really wear something other than rags, Talbot. You are a talented craftsman, dress the part."
…in hindsight, perhaps leaving the other Mist as a moody depressive ball of angst had been a better idea. At least then he wasn't a maliciously willful risk to everything the metalsmith had to his name. Talbot just knew he was going to regret this. "Well… as I seem to be without anything else, got any suggestions?"
"Several. Hundred. A burlap sack would be better than the rags you've charred and re-Constructed again thousands of times. Did you know… Verde has Flame-resistant silk?"
"The boy didn't tell me that, no."
"It's a bit rough around the edges still, he's trying to figure out quality control… and the spider silk was used in a knitted baby blanket for a baby Sky girl, the rest going into a knitted lace bridal veil to pair with that tiara you're working on, so there's not much of that left."
Huh… interesting. It had been a long time since there had been a development in Flame craftsmanship, and while silk wasn't exactly Talbot's sphere of crafting… there were new things to learn now. Finally. "Doesn't quite help me right here and now, does it Kawahira?"
"No, seriously. A burlap sack would be better than what you're wearing. You look like a crazed hermit."
"I am a crazed hermit." For that matter, so was the Ancient One so he had no room to shake sticks around. "I put up with you, don't I?"
"Ouch. You can't see it, but I'm just simply wounded by your accusation here."
"I can see you right now, thanks. And I know for a fact that's an outright, egregious lie."